


Out Tonight

by BornToLose



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Clubbing, Drinking, F/M, Gen, Kinda, Platonic Relationships, Vomiting, a bit of fluff i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornToLose/pseuds/BornToLose
Summary: You've never been really drunk and you're determined to change that with a little help from your friend Roger.
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen) & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I had a semi-decent idea for these prompts, but it didn't exactly work out as a written story and there was honestly a lack of plot, so I went with this one. I hope you like it! Also I have almost no clue what it's like to be drunk so excuse any inaccuracies.

You'd gone out for a drink or two with Roger a couple of times already, but you'd never really been drunk, not even at the college parties in your dorm. Tonight was a special occasion to go to the club, though. Despite all your bad grades on previous exams and being close to dropping out of university multiple times, you'd passed all your classes and that certainly was a reason to celebrate. Being the gentleman he was, Roger said he'd pay for your drinks as a little thank you for pulling through and not leaving him sitting alone without anyone to let him cheat off on tests next semester.

So you were on your way to Roger's favorite club. You hadn't been to it before because it was more expensive than your usual pubs for Friday nights and you could count the number of times Roger himself had been there on one hand, yet he insisted it was the best club in town. At least when it came to places to go and music you trusted his judgement, so you'd followed his suggestion. It was almost luxury for broke students like you to go there, but it was a nice treat to end the school year.

The moment you set foot in it, the music was blasting at full volume, making it kind of hard to hear your own words, but at least the music itself was good. It was rock music; you figured that was probably the reason Roger loved going there so much. You'd get used to it soon, it had only been a while since you'd gone out somewhere else than the library or coffee shops because both of you had been busy studying lately.

Roger grabbed your hand and dragged you through the crowd straight towards the bar. As you took a seat, he squinted at the list of drinks behind the bartender and you read them out loud to him to keep him from falling off the stool trying to read the sign.

He grinned and turned to you. "I'll take a Moscow Mule. How about you?"

"Hm… You're going to catch me when I fall, right?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you still tried to figure out which of the many - in your opinion overpriced - drinks to buy. Usually when someone else paid for you, you went with the cheapest option, but this time that was pretty much out of the question.

"I'll even carry you home when you're drunk off your ass," he smirked, propping his elbow up on the counter and scooting a bit closer to you to hear you better.

You smiled. "Vodka Lemon then."

After you got your drinks, you raised your glass a few inches above the table top and clinked it against Roger's. "To your passed classes," he said with a chuckle.

"And to another semester of studying and depressions!"

The two of you ordered a couple of more cocktails to get you in the mood to dance because was it even a party without it? You secretly loved to dance, but you tended to be too nervous to do it in front of people without having had at least two drinks beforehand. Roger knew his ways to get you on the floor from the dozens of parties you'd gone through in the last years. Still, you'd always only been a little tipsy, but never actually drunk. You were determined to change that tonight.

Thanks to excellent training during term breaks when he would play in pubs all over England with his band and sometimes even get free drinks, Roger could take more alcohol than you, so in the end, he was more sober than you. In this case he was kind of the worried parent who tried to stop you from drinking too much. You didn't seem to get too sick from it, but he'd rather care too much than too less. He didn't want to end your little party in the emergency room and he'd rather not explain that to your parents.

At some point after what had probably been your fifth drink, you pulled your friend over to the rather large crowd of people on the dancefloor, which made him laugh a bit. He'd always thought it was cute when you'd get anyone near you to dance, if they wanted it or not. Nobody in your environment was safe once you'd get a little bit tipsy because that was when the dancer in you came through. Roger himself wasn't much of a dancer at parties, but something about you captivated him that he suddenly wanted to follow everything you did.

You were beaming when he joined in on you dancing in a way that would make you cringe, had you been sober and seen someone else do it. You had once promised you'd never make the other look embarrassing alone, instead you'd do the same so at least both of you would make a sap out of yourselves. You jumped around for approximately two songs before you walked over to the bar once again to get even more drunk. So far it was fun and neither of you was close to being completely intoxicated yet, though you did look like you couldn't take more than the one Margarita you had just ordered.

When you asked him for a second round, he told you he'd like to sit for a while. You nodded and went to dance on your own as Roger watched you do so. He ordered a glass of water to not be completely hungover the next day and another one for when you would return. His eyes never left you. For some reason, he was scared you might dance with another guy. It wasn't like he had a crush on you. Not at all. Only a small one. Okay, perhaps a big one. But he felt possessive even thinking about that. He didn't really know how exactly he would react if you did end up dancing with a stranger, but he knew he'd be incredibly jealous. Of course he'd try to hide it the best he could, but deep inside he would be hurt.

Maybe he was just so protective of you that he didn't want you to get near danger? You were an adult and you could do whatever you wanted, but he was worried somebody would take advantage of you while you were drunk. He didn't really trust strangers with women he was close to. There was constantly the fear that those men might use them. And that feeling wasn't any less when it came to you. In fact, he got even more worried for you whenever something seemed dangerous in the slightest and he had to admit that he had been skeptical when you'd announced you wanted to get really drunk for the first time tonight. Actually, you were only a year younger than him, but to him you were his little baby who needed to be protected at all costs.

As the club got more crowded, the thoughts in his head were racing faster. There was so much on his mind right now. The way you danced, the way you laughed, the way you sang along to the songs you knew and those you didn't know - hell, even the way you looked. When had he fallen for you this hard?

When you eventually came back to Roger, a wide grin on your face that made him want to die, you called out to the bartender to get you one more shot of tequila. "No no no, you've had enough, sweetheart," he intervened, the sound of the glass hitting the wood bringing him back to reality.

"But Rog!" you whined and pouted at him because it always worked, but not now.

You reached out for your drink, but Roger quickly grabbed it and downed it himself, putting it back on the counter. "You're already drunk enough, don't you think?" He asked, a saccharine smile on his lips. "You know in my state I can't exactly drive you to the hospital if you order more drinks."

You eventually gave in and drank the water he had ordered for you while you'd been away. Roger noticed how your face had turned alarmingly pale. "Rog… can we go to the restroom?" you asked quietly and he immediately knew what you meant, so he jumped off his stool and pushed through the crowd of dancing teenagers, keeping a firm grip on your wrist to keep you from getting lost.

The moment you reached the ladies' room, you stormed over to the toilet faster than Roger could follow you. Not even bothering he wasn't supposed to be here at all, he locked the door and slowly walked up behind you, twisting your hair into a bun and fixing it with the 'emergency scrunchie' he had in the pocket of his jeans for when you felt the need to throw up. Most of the times you'd had to use it until now, Roger had cooked for you, but thankfully he'd stopped doing that. After you were done, he spared you from comments like 'I told you you're drunk enough' because you surely knew that by now.

As you left the bathroom together, the girl who apparently had been waiting to get in for some time gave the two of you a knowing smirk before slipping inside through the half open door. Then you immediately exited the club so you wouldn't be tempted to get more drinks.

Roger was holding you up as you tried to get home. You preferred not to take a taxi because you really didn't want to leave the impression of that one drunk girl who liked to puke on public transport.

"I'm hungry," you whined every two minutes, so you changed your route to stop by a petrol station or fast food restaurant where you'd get some food for you. You found the latter not too far away from your actual destination. Not much later you were sitting on the curbside and Roger fed you french fries, occasionally eating some himself as you laid your head in his lap and stretched your legs, crossing your feet. "Okay, let's get you home," he sighed and tried to get you to stand up.

"I don't wanna walk anymore," you protested, turning your head to look up at him with puppy eyes.

He didn't know about you, but he didn't plan on spending the rest of the night on the cold sidewalk in front of a McDonald's. "(Y/n), it's only a short walk from here to your flat," he kept trying, brushing the sticky hair on your forehead out of your face.

"Carry me," you replied as if it was the most obvious thing to do in this situation.

Roger sighed. You were even more stubborn when you were drunk, so it was no use trying to convince you to walk. "C'mon up then."

You finally got off of him and stretched your arms out, ready to be picked up. You almost knocked him over when he lifted you up to carry you bridal style. He made a mental note to take a taxi next time while you drunkenly hummed the wedding march. "Gimme kissey Rog!" you squealed, readjusting your arms around his neck in an attempt to get closer to his face.

"(Y/n), you're drunk," he said calmly. He knew you didn't do this on purpose and he'd been told he was one hell of a disaster when he was drunk himself. Apparently you didn't care, as you were already placing a big smooch on his cheek, making him blush bright red. You didn't notice all the way home.

When you finally arrived at your front door, he fumbled in his pocket to find your spare keys and opened the door. You didn't seem to be willing to walk the rest by yourself, so his only option was to carry you upstairs to your apartment. "Will you be okay until tomorrow?" Roger asked as he put you down on the couch and kneeled in front of you. He planned to visit you the next morning to check in on you before he'd spend a week at home in Truro.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied, but he didn't quite believe you. Taking a closer look at you, he realized it would probably be better if he stuck around for the night if you ended up feeling worse. He couldn't leave you alone after tonight; he was too worried about you.

The blonde slightly shook his head. "Would you mind if I stayed for the night?"

"Nope."

"Alright, then I'll sleep on the couch if that's good with you?" Roger said and got up, walking over to your fridge. He returned with a glass of water and you downed it in one shot. "Now get changed and go to sleep. Tell me when you need anything, okay?"

He ran a hand through your hair and pulled you in for a side-hug. "Thank you, Roger. Love you," you mumbled sleepily and gave him a tired smile as you moved to your bedroom.

"I told you I'd carry you home," he winked. "Love you too. Goodnight."

"Night." You closed the door behind you and Roger made himself comfortable on the couch with the many pillows you collected. Before going to sleep, he set an alarm for tomorrow to make breakfast for you. He'd finally learned how to make edible scrambled eggs and he really hoped you wouldn't have to use the emergency scrunchie again.


End file.
